


when we're together (its magical)

by hannybee



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dark Magic, Human! Mingyu, M/M, Potions, Witch AU, Witch! Minghao, Witch! Seokmin, Witch! Seungkwan, Witchcraft, more to be added - Freeform, occult shop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-01-15 09:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18495673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannybee/pseuds/hannybee
Summary: "I just looked into the future and... it said you're going to be a little bitch forever.""Shut the fuck up, Jeonghan."orSeokmin is finally, finally, manifesting powers. But they come with visions that leave his head spinning and his world reeling. How can he manage a crush on his roommate and a blooming relationship with the mysterious witch across the street at the same time? And how long can he manage his visions before they consume him entirely?





	1. late nights

_ The dirt was caked under Seokmin’s finger nails. Blood was plastered on his forearms, splattered on the dull iron of his breast plate. Its acrid scent burned in his nostrils but he was long since used to the smell. It never truly washed away. Dirt could be scrubbed away and rust could be polished but the blood never truly left his skin, even after long hours spent trying to make its implications rinse away.  _

_ At the sound of an explosion, his horse brayed, hooves shifting in the upturned soil, and Seokmin winced. He liked to put up a façade of calmness in front of his men but from his vantage point on the hill, the true horrors of the war were harder to ignore. The explosion had been caused by an enemy mage; that much was clear from the purple smoke pluming from impact site. He couldn’t bear the sound of the screams that began to rise above the din of the battlefield; his tangled his fingers in his horse’s mane. He could see a man clawing his way from the rubble, one of his arms a bloodied and mangled mess. His screams could be heard even from here. He raised his free hand and closed his eyes with a shaky breath. He let the warmth run down his arm and pool in his palm. He forced the sound the clashing of swords and shields, the screams of the mangled, the distant rumble of the thunder, the constant thumping of horse hooves, the musical jangle of chain mail, everything, to quiet into a dull ringing just behind his ears. His palm grew warmer and warmer by the second, the impression of light beginning to burn against his eyelids. He could hear his heart hammering in his chest as he collected the light between his palms, cradling, pouring all he could give into the spell before, with a sharp exhale, he released the spell.  _

__

_ At first it nearly seemed like it had failed, as it fizzled out and sparked between his fingers. Suddenly, with a gust of cool wind and an almost imperceptible pop, the battlefield was engulfed in a bright halo of white light, expanding and rippling out from Seokmin’s dirtied palms. There were one, two, three beats of silence, and Seokmin swore he heard a bird’s chirp before the light dimmed and the battle came back into view.  _

_ He hated having to use that spell. The screaming was gone now but the implications that the silence brought were hard to bear. It was a simple clarity spell, only expanded by a hundred-fold. The archers aim would be true, the foot soldiers unburdened by the life they had been forced to abandon, the cavalry men in tune with their steeds. For a moment, Seokmin could bring peace to his men. In whatever form they happened to need it. The man he had seen, the one who’s limb had been so brutally torn from him, had quieted. There had been no doubt that the man was going to die, Seokmin had only made it as pleasant as death could be. He tried to take solace in the fact that the spell had no doubt worked;  that the man’s last moments were of quiet and warmth, ignorant to the pain that previously ravaged his frame. The thought made it no easier to bare.  _

__

_ He placed the heel of his hand against the pommel of his blade. He had already spent too much time away from the front line.  _

Seokmin shot up, heart still hammering in his chest. Upon seeing the familiar room around him, he sighed and pulled himself from the sweat drenched sheets for the third time this week, making his routine trek to the bathroom. The first night he had startled, gasping for air as visions of torn earth and blood-soaked torsos thrust him into the waking world. But after nearly a month straight of the constant dreams, Seokmin was used to the gruesome pictures, in spite of the heart hammering at his ribcage and the shake in his limbs that wouldn’t leave his bones for a good hour after an episode. His hand found the light switch in the dark, and, upon flicking it on, he was greeted with the sight that greeted him most nights nowadays. 

His skin was dull and lifeless, the dark circles under his eyes were getting worse by the day. Even the half-hearted smile he attempted paled in comparison to a mere month ago. He’d heard plenty of stories about other peoples’ manifesting. It was common to receive a premonition or vision or a sign before someone manifested. But he couldn’t decipher what the fuck he was supposed to glean from these dreams. He could remember the feeling of magic coursing through him, the knowledge of learning spells and casting them with great ease. 

Seokmin raised a hand and squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating as hard as he could. He stood there for a good twenty seconds, probably looking like an idiot, but when he opened his eyes, surprisingly, just like the other hundreds of times he’s attempted this, he couldn’t make so much as a spark. He took a forlorn glance at himself in the mirror, as if his reflection was the one to blame for his magical constipation, before flicking the light off and padding back into the hallway. 

He could hear the sound of his roommate snoring from the room opposite his own. _God_ , he’d give anything to spill what has been happening to his roommate but there was no way he could. Revealing anything magical to non-magical humans was strictly forbidden and could land Seokmin in hot water. Like, magically heated, scalding hot water, deep in some dungeon somewhere. Okay, to be fair, Seokmin wasn’t _exact_ on what happened when you broke The Rules but he knew that it was bad. 

Taking one last look at the closed door, Seokmin slipped back into his own room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Rather than heading straight back to bed and inevitably back into a nightmare, he padded to the already ajar balcony doors. He slipped between the crack in the doors; they were known to creak, and stepped out into the cool night air. The concrete felt cold, even through his socks. The air wasn’t even fresh. It was bitter and ran thick with smog and for a moment, Seokmin longed for the nights spent on his parent’s farm. But for a witch in the heart of the city, you had to take what moments of quiet you could. The balcony was small and along the rusting rail hung a couple  baskets of herbs Seokmin had dedicated himself to growing from scratch for the last few months. He had quickly discovered that it wasn’t easy growing plants without using magic, but he’d resisted the urge to cast a quick growth spell, and now he was quite proud of the small garden he was tendering. It was nothing special, one of corianders and another of bay laurel, with a few sprouts of clover interspersed between the plants. It was an odd assortment to those unfamiliar with witchcraft but it wasn’t anything that would raise any suspicions. 

It was a quiet night; the street was absent of rowdy college students and the small stores that lined the small street that Seokmin’s small balcony looked over had closed. All but one. 

The occult store that had opened only a month prior was still open, and its quiet, Halloween- esque music could be heard even from where  Seokmin stood. Its name, Cat’s Eye, hung above  it’s still open door, painted on in ornate scrawl. A cat  logo was painted delicately beside it, it’s eyes a bright and piercing green even in the night.  Between the dramatic lace curtains, the fake spider, and an ornate candelabra they had surely bought at some estate sale, hung a neon sign that read “24/7” in bright red letters. 

A 24/7 occult store. Seokmin couldn’t imagine getting many three am palm readings or midnight tarot card drawings but he wasn’t sure. What he was sure of, was that the shop was undoubtedly fake. From the way it reveled in its cheap, gothic aesthetic, to the fact that he had heard Spooky Scary Skeletons coming from its door on more than one occasion, it seemed more like an overzealous Halloween store than a legitimate  wiccan store, undoubtedly run by some unknowing human. 

But maybe.

Maybe. 

Someone in there could help him with these damned nightmares. He heavily doubted it. Plus, the risk of informing some unwitting human of magic just because Seokmin was getting a few nightmares was not risk Seokmin wanted to take. But maybe someone could help, and the possibility was tearing him apart. 

He spent a few more minutes outside on the balcony, the purple of dawn beginning to glow on the horizon and Seokmin took that as his cue to leave, making a note to himself to pick up some more chamomile tea on his way home from work tomorrow.

As he slipped back under his covers, he prayed that he’d had enough dreams for one night.

Surprisingly, it seems as though someone up there heeded his prayer and, in the morning, he woke up well rested- well, as well-rested one could be after three solid hours of sleep. With a sniffle that he hoped wasn’t precluding a cold, Seokmin slipped out of bed and down the hall, noting with mild annoyance, that Mingyu had left the remnants of his pre-workout protein shake on the counter, but it was nothing Seokmin wasn’t used to by now. Sweeping the vaguely chocolate smelling powder into the trash and setting the cup aside with a reminder to himself to remind Mingyu to clean it later, Seokmin pulled out a box of Lucky Charms, pouring them into a clean bowl with a yawn. Milk soon followed, and he swirled it around half-heartedly. 

He was busy contemplating the meaning of life when the door was flung open, Mingyu entering the previously silent apartment, sweaty and breathing heavily from his morning workout. Seokmin waved his free hand, smiling around a mouthful of cereal. Mingyu took the chair opposite Seokmin, not quite up to words yet after his daily jog. He laughed, setting down his spoon. 

“You regretting your new year’s resolution yet?”

Mingyu’s brows furrowed, managing to speak between gasps for air. “Just wait... until... I get my six-pack nerd.” Seokmin stuck out his tongue and rolled his eyes, pointedly trying Very hard to ignore the fact Mingyu looked very good currently and trying equally as hard to burn a hole in his cereal bowl with his gaze. “Nightmare again?”

His gaze shot up from the lumpy rainbow he’d been staring at, staring for a second. He laughed airily, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. You can tell?”

Mingyu nodded, dropping his  hydroflask against the table with a clunk. He waved a hand, vaguely outlin in g Seokmin’s face. “You look... bad.” 

He huffed, smacking his shoulder. “Gee thanks.” 

Mingyu pouted, in that way of his that was unfairly cute and that infallibly made Seokmin’s heart skip a beat. “Worse than usual, like, really... tired.” He groaned, setting his forehead on the table. “I don’t know. Too early. Less words.” 

He nodded sympathetically, patting him on the shoulder. They sat there at the table for a few more minutes, Seokmin finishing up his cereal, Mingyu still face down, recovering from the energy he had exerted. 

“Look, I gotta head to work, you know Mr. Francis gets cranky when I’m late.”

Mingyu groaned and shifted to look up at him, managing a sad expression. 

“Don’t worry,” he said, standing up to put his bowl in the sink. “I’ll pick up some pizza on the way home and we can binge watch  Moomin if you want.” 

Mingyu raised a fist in silent victory, head falling back on the table with a thump. 

Seokmin smiled fondly, resisting the urge to muss Mingyu’s hair before resigning himself to getting ready for work.

When Seokmin stepped out of his room again, dressed in his  60’s-esque diner uniform, Mingyu had migrated from the kitchen table to the living room, where he was passed out on the couch. Seokmin ignored the quirk of his lips and the tug at his heart strings, closing the apartment door behind him softly.

Being a waiter wasn’t the easiest profession in the world. All of the nasty customers and rude managers made it tough to come to work at times. But those few sweet old regulars made Seokmin reluctant to leave. And after all, the tips were nothing to sneeze at. He set the breakfast scrambles down in front of the elderly couple that came in every Thursday before slipping in the back to grab a couple of coffees for the family that looked like they’d been on the road for days. He found Seungkwan sitting on the counter (definitely a health violation), waiting for a new pot of coffee to be ready. He hopped onto the counter beside him while he waited; it was a slow day and he could afford a couple seconds. 

“How’s it goin’, lover boy?”

Seokmin groaned, rolling his eyes. “Leave me alone, you don’t know how cute he is.”

“He better be pretty fucking smoking if you’re this head over heels with him.” 

Seokmin resisted his urge to stick out his tongue, instead idly kicking the leg of the table. “I’m too tired for love right now anyways.” 

“You still got those nightmares?” 

“Yeah.” Seokmin didn’t mention they’d been getting worse recently. 

“...Why don’t you join a coven or something?” 

Seokmin sat bolt straight, looking around to make sure to none of the cooks had heard. “ _Dude_ ,” he whispered. “Be careful.” He took another look around, before relaxing slightly. “I haven’t even manifested yet.” 

Seungkwan shrugged, seemingly unbothered about who did and didn’t hear them. “You don’t need to manifest before you join a coven.” Seungkwan was a kitchen witch, unfortunately for Seokmin, meaning he couldn’t help with his nightmares, but he could make a mean soup that could warm even the coldest hearts.

The coffee machine beeped and Seungkwan hopped off the counter, waving a coffee spoon in his direction. “Or maybe you just need a therapist.” Seungkwan disappeared back onto the floor and Seokmin reluctantly slid off the counter to pour his coffee. Again, that occult store came to mind, Cat’s Eye, but if he really thought about it, the nightmares hadn’t got that bad yet, so maybe he could put off finding a responsible witch for later. He stepped back into the dining room and put on his brightest smile.

By the end of his shift, his feet ached and protested moving another inch. But the seventy-five dollars tucked in his pocket made it hard to complain. He bid a goodbye to Seungkwan, and a thank you to the cooks for cooking him a pizza (the employee discount came in handy sometimes), and locked up shop behind everyone once everything was prepped and cleaned. 

Again, it was a cool night out, much like the previous night, and before slipping into his hand-me-down car, Seokmin savored the breeze, quietly relishing in the moon light. 

The radio was playing the same pop hits it had been playing for a week now, but he didn’t mind, it bought him an excuse to practice his singing (not to mention he couldn’t afford an AUX cord). He sang  unabashedly, window cracked just slightly. Wind whistled through the glass as he drove home at what might have been above the speed limit. But, I mean, can you blame him? If you had a date with Kim Mingyu, you might break the law a little bit too. So what it wasn’t technically a date? Seokmin would take what he could get. He rounded the corner of the last block and leaned back in the seat; nothing was going to go wrong tonight if he had anything to say about it. The pizza had the perfect toppings so there were no arguments to be had (even though pineapple on pizza was the superior choice), and Seokmin knew for a fact they had beer in the fridge, and neither of them were going to object to  Moomin . All he had to do was get home in one piece.

_ Battle was raging on around him, the heat and noise heavy and oppressive on his shoulders. He had dismounted from his steed when the waves of oncoming men had grown  to thick to ride through, clashing swords with the enemy alongside his men. He dodged and parried, lunged and rolled, and to anyone looking on from the outside, he was a confident and experienced swordsman , in his element. That couldn’t be further from the truth. _

_ Seokmin’s heart beat like a humming bird against his ribcage an d , d eep in his gut, he felt a feeling he had never experienced before. It burned hot against his chain mail, desperate and feral as a sword skidded off the guard of his own. Seokmin pressed back against the man, swinging his arm back in a move he knew was far too wide. Seokmin wasn’t fighting to win. He was fighting to stay alive. All around him he could feel the ragged breaths of the men around him. At some point, this battle had become less than a fight between good and evil, right versus wrong, it was a fight for survival. A fight to see who could last the longest in the trenches.  _

_ Seokmin’s arm came down, sword clanging off the man’s. For a second he saw his eyes and he saw he was young, and afraid, much like himself. He saw the man lean back and lunge at him, he saw the way the sword was pointing and he knew the exact parry to make. The man was sloppy and Seokmin knew it would cost him his life. In one swift motion, the man’s sword had been deflected with a clang that Seokmin felt in his ribs. Seokmin’s sword continued forward, cutting through the man’s leather breastplate with practiced ease. Seokmin squeezed his eyes shut.  _

_ When he opened them again, the blade had disappeared just below his sternum, a red stain blooming from the man’s chest. Seokmin saw his eyes and they were still wide and staring, flitting between the sword and his face. His mouth was open, moving, but he was silent ,  and suddenly Seokmin was nauseous. _

_ Seokmin yanked his sword free and the man crumpled to the ground, heaving a heavy breath he must have been holding. He fell to his knees beside him, oblivious to the battle still raging on around him. His fingers were twitchy but he managed to unbuckle the man’s breast plate. The stain had soaked in to the cotton shirt and for whatever  morbid  reason, he recalled that a stain like that wouldn’t wash out unless they got it in cold water fast. With the edge of his blade, he cut the shirt open, bearing the wound to the air. The man hissed beneath him but it was weak and the man had since stopped looking around, eyes fixed on the sky above him. The wound was fatal, there was no doubt. He had known it would be fatal the second he moved. Still he applied pressure to the injury, knowing it would alleviate the pain, for a moment at least. The blood was hot and visceral, and the man beneath him had begun shaking. Tears ran wet down his cheeks, mixing with the bloody scene below him. He wasn’t sure when he had started crying. _

_ He took the remnants of the shirt and pressed it to the wound with one hand even though he knew there was no chance of it clotting before the man was long since dead. It had been too soon to use another spell so soon. But, the man beneath him had begun to sob, heaving, ugly and awful sobs and Seokmin felt bile rising in his throat. He raised a free hand and concentrated just long enough to conjure a small ball of light. It wasn’t much but the man was too far gone to need to use any more. He took a breath and pressed the ball into the man’s skin just above his collarbones .  _

_ He looked as though he might have rejected it at first, his body seizing and letting out a wet choking noise, but with an expression Seokmin could only describe as relief, the man let out a deep shuddering breath, his body relaxing beneath his blood soaked palms. He blinked once, then twice, and the rise of his chest stopped. _

_ Seokmin reached up, his fingers still tacky with blood and shut the man’s eyes, closing them  to the night reflected in them.  _

The streetlamps were blurring past, streaking by fast, much too fast. The wind was shrieking in  Seokmin’s ears. His foot shifted on instinct and slammed on the brake, sending him forward into the steering wheel, the air knocked out of his chest. He winced and peeled himself off of the dashboard, holding his sternum where it met the wheel. His cheeks were damp with tears. He looked down at his shaking hands, half expecting them to be plastered in the man’s blood. Everything felt so real. He felt like if he closed his eyes, he could still see the battlefield alight, the sight of his sword buried in his man’s chest, the way his lifeless eyes stared at nothing. He blinked once, then blinked again, taking in his surroundings. He had skidded to the stop in the middle of the road, thankfully no one had come up behind him. He took in the street signs and brick architecture, clinging to anything to bring him back to reality. Or at least, this one. His wild eyes danced over the street, searching for something, _anything_ , what, he wasn’t sure. 

His eyes landed on the harsh, bright green eyes of a cat, delicately painted onto a sign, next to a carefully scrawled shop name. He swallowed harshly. He had been hesitant before but...

His hands gripped the steering wheel. Blacking out in the middle of the day wasn’t an option. Someone was going to end up hurt one day. Easing back onto the gas, he pulled into a parking spot in front of the store. The night had gotten considerably colder when he got out of the car and he drew his jacket tighter around him. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing an excuse if the worker inside was an unwitting human. He could probably pretend he was drunk, and stumble back out to his car and back to his apartment where he could watch  Moomin  with Mingyu in peace. But the thought of blacking out of Mingyu, or doing something he regretted while he was out was what pushed him to the occult shop’s open door. He could hear the scary music pouring from the doorway clear as day. 

He breathed in, and stepped through the door.


	2. a promise

The first thing Seokmin noticed was the smell. It was sweet and heavy and earthy, hanging in the air around him. Though he couldn’t place the scent, he saw incense burning on the table in front of him, smoke curling away from the sticks in thin wisps, and placed where the smell was originating from. Around the burning incense were many unlit sticks, in a variety of scents and sizes, including the wider ones that made your home smell for weeks on end.

  
The front of the shop was what he had expected from a kitschy occult store: Various candles and sage, plastic crucifixes and various things for “killing” “scary” monsters. Garlic and wooden stakes for vampires, fake silver blades for werewolves, and various weapons against the “terror of the nights”. Seokmin knew better; many monsters that humans had based their superstitions around were actually quite nice in real life, Seungkwan’s boyfriend Hansol was proof of that. The werewolf was nothing short of friendly and amiable, despite what the packaging for that silver blade was advertising.  
Red flags were going off in Seokmin’s head. These were things no witch- no respectable witch would sell, which meant it was even more likely that Seokmin was about to spill the beans to some human. Still, it was the thought of feeling the man’s blood between his fingers even as he gripped his steering wheel that pushed him further into the store.

  
Closer to the back of the store, the apparel seemed to change. Now, instead of crystals that were surely fake, the geode that Seokmin found in between a pair of skeletons was real and hefty, empty of magic but able to be filled. He set the rock down and moved further into the store, where plants became more and more abundant. From here, the store could almost be mistaken for a gothic themed flower shop, rather than an occult store. But the flowers were certainly nothing you could find in any flower shop. The sun drops buds were closed tightly now, but Seokmin knew that when the sun rose, they would open into the prettiest yellow flowers, and the right part could be used to heal wounds. The purple flowers of wolfsbane hung heavy with toxins.

  
These were good signs. They all indicated that he might be dealing with an actual witch, but still, he was skeptic. Who was to say that the human running the store wasn’t simply knowledgeable about plants and their uses?  
In between the plants, Seokmin found cauldrons of various sizes, some for the witch who had space enough in their fireplace, to those who could only cook potions stove top, to those who only knew how to operate a microwave. He was examining the stove top cauldron and its copper sheen, knowing that the right utensils made all the difference in a potion. It was hefty and dense and seemed fairly high quality, certainly not something he thought he’d find coming in. It wouldn’t be too difficult to hide from Mingyu, though he might have to stop him from cooking his ramen in it when the dishes were dirty, lest he end up with sentient noodles. Hanging next to a basket of mandrake (which he was careful not to disturb) hung a spoon for potion brewing, claiming it could withstand up to 5000 degrees. Seokmin nodded appreciatevely, but the next thing that caught his eye took him by surprise.

  
It was a jar, placed high on a shelf, its dull exterior belying its contents. His eyes widened as he set the cauldron down. Carefully, standing on his tiptoes, he grabbed the jar and held it gingerly in his palms. It couldn’t be.  
Written across the jar on a strip of masking tape, scrawled in messy writing, were the words: “dragon scales”. It was clear from the dustiness of the jar that this wasn’t just some fake, easy to make, replication. He looked closer into the contents and couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped him. Inside were three scales, golden and glimmering, even in the dim light of the store. They seemed to pulse with energy and even through the glass, Seokmin could feel the raw energy thrumming from the scales in a way he had never felt before. He was mesmerized. This was no ordinary human-

  
“Be careful with that.”  
Seokmin startled, fumbling the jar before regaining control and pulling it flush to his chest. He turned to see someone behind the counter (where he Swore there hadn’t been anyone before), idly turning the pages of a thick, leather-bound book. He hardly hazarded Seokmin a glance as he continued. “Those aren’t easy to find.”

  
This was a witch. Seokmin had no doubt. The man was skinny and lanky, dark, shaggy hair obscuring his face. He wore all black and he radiated a menacing aura that had Seokmin taking a step back. He swallowed, nodding, placing the jar gingerly upon the shelf from which he’d found it. The man sighed and gently closed the heavy book with a single finger before finally looking up at Seokmin.

  
Seokmin nearly choked. The man was alluring, almost scarily so. His eyes were downturned, his gaze sharp and intimidating, searching his face for something. His brows were furrowed, his lips pulled in an expression he could only describe as distaste.  
“What do you need.”

  
Seokmin realized he was staring and cleared his throat, tearing his eyes from the other’s face. He really hadn’t thought this far ahead. Even if the man was a witch, spilling his innermost nightmares to a complete stranger didn’t seem like the best idea. His eyes flitted above the man’s head, eventually catching on a sign he hadn’t noticed before. “You guys do... mind-readings right?”  
The man behind the counter tilted his head, eyes still scanning Seokmin’s face until he heaved a heavy sigh, flipping his book open again. He hurried to explain. “I’ve been having pretty bad nightmares recently.” The employee’s eyes fell to the book once more.

  
“That’s Jeonghan. He works day shift. He’ll be in at 10:00,” he explained, with a tired-sounding sigh.  
Seokmin visibly deflated, his nervous smile crumbling into a defeated sort of semblance of a grin. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to quell the rising fear of falling asleep that night. The man’s dark gaze had once again lifted from the yellowing pages to once again study Seokmin’s face.

  
He must have seen Seokmin’s face fall at the news, because the man stood suddenly, pushing the book aside. “Give me a second.” The man knelt down behind the counter and Seokmin could hear the faint clang of glass bottles knocking against each other until he stood up again, this time extending a small vial full of silver liquid. “It won’t solve whatever the issue is but it should work well enough for tonight.” Gingerly, Seokmin took the small bottle. “Sprinkle it on your pillow and it should help with any nightmares, at least for a night.”  
Seokmin began patting down his pockets, searching for that once crumpled twenty he was sure that he’d had before the man waved a nonchalant hand. “Don’t worry about it. Jeonghan will wring your wallet out enough.”

  
He nodded appreciatively and he thought he saw a hint of a smile on the sullen man’s face before it disappeared. He turned around and headed back for the entrance, careful to step around the plants and displays. He was near the door, past the incense table when he heard the man speak up again.

  
“Hey.”  
Seokmin turned, startled.  
“Your coriander could use some more water.” The man said, fleetingly, before he took his book and himself into the back of the store.

Seokmin stood there for a few moments longer, at a loss for words, before muttering a quiet thanks to no one. He tucked the bottle into his pocket and stepped back out into the night. There was no doubt his pizza was cold by now and Mingyu was probably getting antsy but he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

  
He got back into his car and drove the short drive across the street, taking the elevator ride back up to his apartment. Holding the box in one hand and unlocking the door with the other, he was greeted with the scent of popcorn. He tossed his keys onto the counter, following the sound of the TV to the living room where he found Mingyu, bundled up in a blanket, the only parts of him visible being his head and the hand currently buried in a bowl of popcorn. His face brightened when he saw Seokmin, or more likely the pizza, freeing his other hand to make gimme hands. He laughed, handing over the pizza and flopping down next to him on the couch.

  
“I thought you died or somethin’” Mingyu said, around a mouthful of pizza, “So I had to make popcorn.”

  
He gasped, aghast. “All on your own? How did you manage?”

  
Mingyu shot him a glare, that’s effect was rather limited by him being buried chin up in a Minecraft blanket. “Shut up, you know I could burn water if I tried hard enough.” That was true; Mingyu had an inexplicable skill for burning anything he touched, so Seokmin did most of the cooking. Which he didn’t mind really, Mingyu took care of the chores as a trade-off and they hadn’t run into a problem in the few years they’ve lived together.

  
“ _And_ , since you were gone I couldn’t watch Moomin because you have the password.” Seokmin laughed again; the gentle giant beside him was truly a man of few needs. He stood up, despite how his knees protested.  
“Hang on, I’ll get my laptop.”

The two laid there for the remainder of the night, devouring the lukewarm pizza and almost burned popcorn along with a few beers. It was comfortable and routine, the two of them pressed together on the couch they’d owned since college, Mingyu hogging all of the blankets despite the fact that he was a literally a furnace and Seokmin just glad to be with his friend-that-he-wished-was-more-than-a-friend-but-didn't-want-to-ruin-their-relationship-friend. It was an average night, which is exactly what he needed after nearly getting into a car crash. Mingyu was still terrible at catching popcorn in his mouth and Seokmin still laughed at him for it.  
Eventually the two had to call it a night. Mingyu had a shoot the next day and dark circles were not appreciated, plus, the taller was already nodding off in his cocoon, head struggling to stay upright.

  
Seokmin nudged him with his elbow, letting out a yawn of his own. “Hey, we should probably hit the sack, man.” Mingyu groaned and shook his head, refusing to move. “C’mon man, we both know how Jihoon gets and I don’t want my ass chewed out because you were late again.” Mingyu didn’t open his eyes but he swore he heard a muffled “that’s gay” from underneath the blankets. He rolled his eyes and nudged him again, stifling another yawn. “I’ll make you pancakes in the morning if you get up now.” Mingyu peered over the top of the blanket but still didn’t make an effort to move from his side of the couch.

  
Seokmin sighed, it was time to play his trump card. “Will you sleep if I carry you to bed?” Mingyu’s head finally shot up from the blankets, arms grabbing for him like a tired child at Disneyland. Rolling his eyes, Seokmin stood, leaning down and pulling the larger man into his arms.

It was gangly and it was awkward; Mingyu’s limbs were not easy to manipulate, but they managed to settle into semblance of a bridal-style carry. His knees were draped over one arm, his back on the other, his waist somewhere between. Mingyu wrapped his arms around his neck and Seokmin cleared his throat. Together they half-walked, half-stumbled down the hallway, both of them red and laughing. Seokmin nudged the door open with his foot, and dropped Mingyu onto his bed, where he tumbled onto his back, grinning up at him with that stupid grin that had Seokmin swooning again. Looking away, he mumbled a soft “goodnight” into his fist, turning to leave. Mingyu laughed, at what, he wasn’t sure, but Seokmin was already out the door, closing the door behind him softly. He let out a sigh, one he wasn’t sure how long how he’d been holding. He stared at the wall opposite him for a moment, before slipping quietly into his own room.

  
The moon was full and bright, its light spilling in through the balcony doors. The sliver of light fell on his pillowcase as he pulled the bottle from his pocket. He spun the liquid around in the glass, watching it shine, before uncorking it, the smell of lavender and the essence of clean sheets after a night spent crying filling the room. Carefully, as instructed, he dripped the elixir onto his pillowcase, watching as it seemed to sizzle before sinking into the linen.

  
As it absorbed, he supposed, Seokmin changed into his pajamas, shedding the diner uniform he’d been stuck in all day. As he flopped back onto the mattress, he prayed that the potion did what it was supposed to do, and that the man from the store would be there in the morning.

_The dawn had just broken over the hills, purple light spilling under the drawn curtains of Seokmin’s tent. It poured over the stomped dirt floor, where persistent flowers still managed to grow and Seokmin had let them. It flowed between intertwined fingers and the bed much too nice to belong on a battlefield. Sounds of a sleepy camp began to stir around them, and Seokmin let out a tired grown, burying his face into his chest. The rumbling laugh that came from the man was quiet and filled the tent with even more light. “My highness, it’s time to get up.”_

  
_Seokmin groaned louder, pulling Mingyu closer to him. “Don’t call me that yet. Too early.” Mingyu chuckled again, but didn’t say anything for the moment, running a hand through the smaller’s curly hair. For the moment it was peaceful, and he could almost forget about the battle currently raging onward just outside the tent._   
_The two lay there, intertwined, as the world began to wake up around them. Eventually, Mingyu sat up, earning him a whine from the petulant royal beside him. “We have to get up, Seokmin.” He spoke his name so softly, as though he was still afraid of uttering it. Though his weary limbs protested, he sat up slowly, already anticipating and dreading putting on his armor. He caught the way Mingyu looked at the doorway of the tent and he took his hand in his, running his thumb over the metal band wrapped around his finger._   
_“We are not going to get caught. We have done this for nights now, and no one has suspected a thing.” Mingyu turned to face him, his normally resolve eyes visibly shaken with worry. Seokmin reached up and cupped his cheek, running a thumb down his face gently. “And if we are caught, so what?” He said smiling, even as a man barked orders in the distance. “If we are imprisoned, we are imprisoned together. And if we are killed,” Mingyu shook his head softly, eyes cast downwards. Seokmin squeezed his hand tighter. “If we are killed, then we will be together wherever our next lives take us.” He lifted the others’ calloused hand, kissing the iron band gently._

_  
“I promise.”_

 


	3. fortune told fortune gold

 

Seokmin  shot up from his bed, clutching his shirt; his heart was beating faster than it ever had. He stumbled out of his sheets, fumbling his way to the bathroom and throwing the lights on. He was flushed, his cheeks and shoulders a deep red. He stared at his reflection for a few moments longer, revisiting that dream again and again in his mind. His hands gripped the edge of the counter top, trying to ground himself  to  this world. 

 

He took a deep breath, and started from the beginning. This wasn’t a nightmare, as much as  Seokmin  would like to be able to dismiss it as such. But this wasn’t any normal dream. It had felt so real, and even  Seokmin  drew further into consciousness, the memory of the dream hadn’t faded in the slightest. He could remember with painful clarity the feeling of the sheets, the way their hands felt intertwined, everything felt like he could still feel Mingyu’s body heat against his. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, leaving the bathroom and checking the clock on his nightstand. It was 10:06. Well, at least he could say that if the potion had done anything, it let him sleep uninterrupted through the night. 

 

Hastily,  Seokmin  pulled on the pair of sweatpants that were socially acceptable to wear outside, grabbing his wallet, his phone, and keys as he made for the door. Some part of him recognized the odd silence of the apartment, and remembered that Mingyu had a photoshoot,  and it was  undoubtedly early if  Jihoon  had anything to say about it. Even just the thought of Mingyu had his cheeks flushing again at the memories of the oddly intimate dream. Rubbing his cheeks stubbornly,  Seokmin  picked up the pace as he hurried to Cat’s-Eye.

 

He forewent the car this time, instead jogging across the street to the store, and stepping through the doorway with less trepidation than he had the previous night. To his disappointment, the man from before was nowhere to be seen, but in his place were two more people, one quietly tending to the plants and the other lounging with his feet up on the counter, seemingly asleep. 

 

He stepped around the incense and the skeletons and the cauldrons, reaching over a pot of rue to tap the currently conscious staff member. The man turned and looked surprised for a moment before taking his headphones out and stuffing them in the front of his apron. On it was pinned a small name tag that read “Joshua” along with a few smiley faces. The corners of the man’s eyes turned upwards as he smiled at  Seokmin . “Can I help you sir?” 

 

“I was told you guys did mind readings?” 

 

Again, the man looked surprised, and he turned to glance at his currently sleeping coworker. He gave  Seokmin  an apologetic glance. “ Jeonghan’s  always like this, I’m sorry.” At the sound of what was presumably his name, the dozing man roused, eyes peeling open to glare at Joshua from under his immaculate ,  bright silver hair. 

 

“I can hear you, you know.” 

  
“Yes, I know,” Joshua said, pulling a pair of scissors out of his apron to continue pruning the red roses behind him. “You have a customer.” 

 

Jeonghan  groaned and rolled his eyes, fixing his glare on  Seokmin  now. His eyes were cold and piercing, and  Seokmin  shifted uncomfortably. He opened his mouth to speak, to explain why he was here, but before he could, Joshua spoke up again. 

 

“Don’t do it.” 

 

Jeonghan  groaned again, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. “Let me have a little fun!”  Jeonghan  kicked his feet off of the counter, waving a lazy hand in  Seokmin’s  direction. He disappeared behind a curtain behind the counter  with a huff.  Seokmin hesitated in front of the counter, unsure. He had been determined coming in here, but the thought of dying in the depths of some weird, poorly staffed occult store, alone and confused, would definitely be a bad thing. 

 

“Hey man, it’s alright.” 

 

Seokmin  turned to find Joshua looking at him once more, smiling warmly. 

 

“He doesn’t bite.” Joshua seemed to reconsider that, thinking a moment before saying. “At least, until like the third date.”  Seokmin  laughed and felt some of his fears assuaged. “I won’t let him overcharge you, either, but don’t tell him I said that.” 

 

He nodded and gave him a grateful thumbs up before moving behind the counter and disappearing behind the curtain  after  Jeonghan . 

 

Behind the curtain was another, smaller room. It was decorated similarly to most “fortune-telling” rooms  Seokmin  had seen before. The windows and walls were draped in heavy curtains, a purple pinstripe wallpaper visible behind them.  Jeonghan  had sprawled himself across a chair, idly scrolling through his phone as he waited. Between him and the chair opposite him was a small circular table with a large crystal ball placed atop it. The room smelled faintly of vanilla and something else lingering in the air. 

 

Cautious,  Seokmin  stepped over to the empty chair and sat down, folding his hands in his lap.  Jeonghan  sighed, again, and set his phone down on the table, waving a lazy hand over the crystal ball. 

 

“Close your eyes and picture your past and present and I will tell you your future or whatever.” 

 

Seokmin , skeptical but desperate, obliged, shutting his eyes. 

 

“Breathe in, and extend your hand.” Again, he listened, raising his hand in the air and breathing in. Abruptly, a hand was on  Seokmin’s , but before he could react,  Jeonghan  jumped away himself, letting out a small yelp.  Seokmin’s  eyes opened and he jerked backwards, seeing  Jeonghan  staring, startled, at his hand.  Seokmin  stood, giving the man space, but leaning in to see if he was okay.

 

“Are you okay?” 

 

Jeonghan  looked up at him, his eyes taking on a bright, sharp look for a second before it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. “You’re a witch.” It wasn’t a question and it left no room for debate. 

 

Seokmin  inhaled sharply. How did he know? Noncommittally, shrugged and nodded, preparing to bolt if he had to.  Jeonghan’s  eyes stayed trained on his for a few moments longer before he left out a relieved sigh, decompressing into his armchair. “Thank god, I thought I was  gonna  have to deal with humans today.” 

 

Seokmin  laughed sharply, surprised and startled. “Are you... one too?” 

 

Jeonghan  nodded, picking up his phone again. “I’m cursed with knowing how good people think I look at all  time .” 

 

Seokmin  grinned, sitting down once again. “You read minds. Are you —”

 

“—reading your mind right now? No, of course not, I would never.”  Jeonghan  raised his eyebrows, smiling slyly over the top of his phone. “What are you here for, anyways?” 

 

Seokmin  sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I think I’m manifesting my powers, but I’ve got these nightmares that are like, ruining my life.” 

 

Jeonghan  typed something into his phone, swinging his legs over the arm of the chair and laying across it horizontally. “Nightmares are pretty common when you manifest.” 

 

“Yeah ,  but yesterday I nearly crashed my car because I had one while I was driving.” 

 

Jeonghan  looked up from his phone finally, his gaze settling into something serious.  “Then that’s probably not a nightmare. They might be visions.” 

 

“Aren’t they usually  of  the future?” He said, brows furrowed. 

 

Jeonghan  shrugged, tilting his head one way and then the other, noncommittally. “Not always.” He set his phone back down on the table, beside the neglected crystal ball. “What are they of?”

 

He inhaled deeply, brows furrowing further. “I’m always on a battlefield and I’m pretty sure it’s the same one.” Idly, he looked down at his palms. “Yesterday, when I was driving, I had a vision that I had killed someone and watched him die under me.” He looked up at  Jeonghan , his eyes watery. “It felt, like, _scarily_ real.”

 

Jeonghan  made a noise of contemplation, planting his feet back on the ground and turning so he was facing  Seokmin  in the chair. “And you’ve never served in a battle before in your life?” At  Seokmin’s  head shake, he continued. “Were you exactly as you are now? Just in a different place?”

 

“I’m like, royalty, I think. And a mage serving  in  a medieval war?” He paused, glancing at  Jeonghan  to make sure he was still listening. The other was leaning forward, eyes trained on his face. He continued, playing with the hem of his shirt. “The weirdest part was seeing my roommate in one of them.”  

 

The other made a surprised noise. “Do they feel more like memories or like dreams?” 

 

“Like memories, definitely. I can remember everything that happened  in  them like they happened yesterday.” 

 

Jeonghan  nodded, seemingly contemplating  something.  “I’ve never heard of something like this happening when someone manifests.” He waved a hand, and a large, old-looking book, hovered through the air until it landed in his lap with a soft thump.  Seokmin  watched in mild awe as he flipped through the yellowing pages. “How long have you been experiencing them?” 

 

He winced, shrugging. “A month, give or take?”

 

Jeonghan’s  eyebrows rose as he flipped through the pages faster. “Then...” He finally stopped on a page, pointing at a picture of a circle drawn  in  runes. “Whatever is causing these visions is likely also causing you to not present. Your parents didn’t like, curse  you  did they?” 

 

He opened his mouth  to  answer, before  Jeonghan  cut him off, his eyes once again glowing briefly. “Not that you remember, huh? Eh, your parents don’t seem like the type.” As his eyes stopped glowing,  Seokmin  held a hand to his forehead, as if that would stop the other. 

 

“My brain is off limits, stay out!” 

 

Jeonghan  rolled his eyes, seemingly amused. “It’s not my fault you didn’t put up even the most basic wards.”  Seokmin  huffed, folding his arms over his chest. “You said you saw a friend so it’s not a premonition or warning... they’re not dreams so they aren’t prophecies... “ 

 

There were a few more moments where  Jeonghan  continued to flip through the aging pages, trying and failing to find anything  of  use. Disappointed, he sighed as he closed the book, waving a hand to return it to  its  place on the shelf. “There’s not much we can do when the visions are so random...” He thought for a moment before a realization apparently hit him. “Unless, we forced them all out at once!” 

 

Seokmin  leaned away, suspicious. “That sounds kinda dangerous. What does that entail?” 

 

“Relax, we’re just  gonna  lay you down, draw some runes around you and just, let all the memories play out from back to front.” 

 

“Who is _we_?” 

 

“Well, I can’t do it all. Dark magic doesn’t blend well with prophets.” 

Seokmin’s  eyes widened. “Dark magic? Isn’t that like, illegal?” 

 

Jeonghan  shrugged, as if that was no big deal. “It’s _perfectly_ safe if you do it right. And  Minghao  is the best dark witch I’ve ever met.” 

 

Though he was tempted to ask who exactly  Minghao  was, there were more pressing questions to be asked. “What are you there  for  then?”

“To make sure your consciousness doesn’t float away from your body into the past and we’re left with a lifeless corpse on our hands.” 

 

He swallowed, visibly nervous; his leg shaking no matter how much he tried to stop it. 

 

Jeonghan  reached over the table, setting a gentle hand on his arm. “If it would make you feel better, you can come  in  tonight, and meet  Minghao . He can run you through it and you can see that you know what he’s doing.” 

 

Seokmin  nodded, steeling his nerves.  Jeonghan’s  eyes had softened and  for  a moment,  Seokmin  could see how much he cared. But just as fast as it had happened it disappeared. 

 

He pulled his hand away, standing up with a huff. “But you still  gotta  leave, 'cause I might have customers that might _actually_ like to pay me and if I’m here, I’m missing out on my beauty sleep.”

Seokmin  nodded, smiling as he noted the joking intentions the other held that weren’t immediately apparent. He  lead  himself to the exit, blinking at the brightness of the store compared the  room he had just left. Joshua had moved from the flowers to behind the counter and instantly,  Jeonghan  was accosting him as  Seokmin  slipped out from behind the counter. 

 

“You didn’t tell me he was a witch!” 

 

Joshua’s eyes turned to  Seokmin , who was bouncing on his feet sheepishly. “I didn’t know.” 

 

“ _Please_ , as if your little plants didn’t tell you as soon as he walked in.” 

 

“I’ve told you before, that’s not how they work  —” 

 

Seokmin  slipped away from the pair, but not before slipping a  ten dollar  bill into the tip jar. 

 

As he stepped outside, the air was filled with the sense of hope. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the shorter chapter but!!!!!! i hope u enjoy !!!!!


	4. i knew id like you

Once Seokmin was back in the quiet of his apartment, he was confronted with the brunt of everything in the silence. For now, he pushed his problems away, stepping into the kitchen to make himself tea. He took the herbs he’d been drying on the window sill and placed a small ball of the leaves onto cheesecloth, tying the bundle up with twine. So what, he technically wasn’t a witch yet? He still took comfort in participating in some of the more rustic parts that often came with being a witch. He set a pot on the stove to boil and leaned over the counter to look out the window. It wasn’t too much of a view; half of it was obscured by the large _“For Rent”_ billboard the apartment building across the street had put up, but it was a view enough. It gave Seokmin a clear view of the sky as muddy as it may be, and  if he happened to be up early he could see the doves line up on the telephone lines strung above the sidewalk. 

It was moments like this, the quiet ones, where he found himself wondering what sort of witch he’d become. Many had told him he’d make a good kitchen witch, and, as much as he loved cooking and other homely things, he couldn’t imagine pouring his magic into it. Elemental witches were often flashy and as cool as it would be to control water or fire, Seokmin didn’t feel like their often-overwhelming powers fit him all too well.

The kettle whistled behind him and as he thought, he poured the water into his favorite mug, the one with the penguin on it, and set the small tea bag-ball hybrid in it, dunking it with a spoon. Seokmin had long since settled into the idea that he’d be a garden witch. They weren’t all too powerful but Seokmin had always felt a fondness for plants, especially growing up on a farm as a kid. It felt like it suited him well and he wouldn’t be opposed to finally being able to help his plants grow to their fullest potential. He stirred his tea and managed to get the tea bag out without burning his finger-tips. 

But as he took the first sip and looked around the still empty apartment, he was once again confronted with his issues. None of them had a simple solution. He couldn’t just pray his visions away (he had tried), and it had been abundantly clear since the first year of college that whatever he had for Mingyu wasn’t going to go away so easily. He sighed, deeply and wearily into his tea, taking a deep sip even as it burned the back of his throat. Cradling the mug in his hands, he headed further into his apartment to his room, not bothering to close the door behind him. He set the cup down on his nightstand and yawned, stretching his arms out over his head. 

The apartment was still as quiet as it always was without Mingyu, but at least from here Seokmin could hear, and sometimes feel, the breeze being carried westward. He drew the curtains back from his doors letting them flow as they pleased as he pushed the door open a crack more. There was nothing he could do now but wait. Wait for night to fall and for him to make another trek to the shop, wait for Mingyu to come home and regale him with the tale of his shoot. 

He picked up the candle from his drawer, the big, three-wick one he saved for days where he needed it most, and set it on his dresser, lighting it with the matches already there. Immediately the smell of clean linen and gentle eucalyptus notes began to fill the room and Seokmin sighed happily. 

The quiet, he’d decided, was never a good time to think and with a small weight taken off of him he began to tidy up his room: picking up the strewn clothes and depositing in the hamper, making his bed for the first time in what felt like months. 

The last thing he felt before he collapsed was his chin hitting his  bed frame .

__

_ The smell of poultices and unchanged bandages hung heavy in the air of the medical tent. The groans of the injured and sickly were unescapable, whether in the tents or on the battle ground. Night had fallen and with it came the chill the earth seemed to hold so dearly to. It was dark, lit only by the candles set by the patients’ sides. This was one of Seokmin’s least favorite places to be; it served to remind him of how far he’d fallen since he’d taken over for his father, and of how many people were getting hurt by this senseless war. But still, he forced himself to look. It would do no good to ignore the pain of his citizens. He passed by cot after cot, some screaming hoarsely in pain, others laying terrifyingly still.  _

__

_ His feet finally stopped at a cot that’s contents left his mouth dry. The boy couldn’t have been any more than twelve; his thin form was twisted under the thin sheet the military had afforded him, stringy hair matted to his forehead in clumps. Though the nurse at the door had cautioned him from approaching from any of the sick for any reason, Seokmin felt his feet carry him to the small boy’s bedside, kneeling down beside him.  _

__

_ Gently, he took the small, trembling hand that had escaped the confines of the sheet, and squeezed it. The boy’s eyes fluttered open, flitting over to Seokmin’s face, before turning back to the cloth ceiling. His mouth opened and for a second, not a word came out. Until, with a strain unfitting for a child so small, he spoke. “It... it hurts, so bad.”  _

__

_ Seokmin blinked away the tears and nodded, pressing his forehead against the child’s balled hand. “You were very brave. Fighting so young.” Again, his eyes flitted to Seokmin’s face, but this time they lingered there longer.  _

__

_ “Brave...?”  _

__

_ He gave a watery smile, returning the child’s gaze. “You were the bravest.”  _

__

_ The child gave a small, self-satisfied smile, eyes turning up towards the canvas roof once more. “...Do I get to be a knight now?”  _

__

_ Seokmin laughed, struggling to keep the tears out of the noise. “You can be any member of the court. The lord, duke, anything you wish, for your bravery.”  _

__

_ He shook his head, lips drawn in a small, determined expression. “I only want to be a knight.” He didn’t elaborate further and Seokmin didn’t push it any further. They both were quiet for a moment, and he could hear his heart beating in his chest in the silence.  _

__

_ When the kid spoke again, he was quieter, his eyes shut tight. “... Is... is the war almost over?”  _

__

_ “It is.” Seokmin was surprised at how confidently he’d managed to deliver the lie. “Just a little longer. I promise.”  _

__

_ The child thought for a moment, then nodded, seemingly satisfied with that response. For a moment, color seemed to return to his pallid cheeks and his body relaxed into the cot. It wasn’t until the child’s eyes had stopped fluttering did Seokmin realize what had happened. He released the hand, and wept, silently, his tears running hot down his cheeks. He was left there, alone, the screams of the dying and the dwindling candle his only witnesses. _

The first thing Seokmin heard when he woke up was a voice.

“—Min? Seokmin? Are you awake?” 

“What… what happened?” His voice was groggy and as he spoke he noticed the sharp pain in his jaw. He raised a hand to feel it but a hand was abruptly over his, pushing his hand back down to his lap. Seokmin blinked once, then twice, eyes adjusting to the harsh light of the… bathroom? Finally forcing his eyes to focus on the silhouette in front of him , Mingyu came into view, his normally open face contorted in worr y. 

Mingyu heaved a heavy sigh, responding. “I was so worried. You were passed out on the floor and you had a nasty cut on your chin.” He lifted the bottle of antiseptic, raising an eyebrow  in stead  of asking,  Seokmin  nodding and resisting the urge to touch his chin. Mingyu tipped the bottle onto a cloth, soaking a small portion of it. “If you hadn’t woken up when you did, I probably would have called the police.” 

He placed the towel against the wound and  Seokmin  hissed in response, leaning away. Mingyu nodded sympathetically, wincing himself. “I know, it sucks.” He gently but thoroughly cleaned the blood from in and around the cut; thankfully it wasn’t as deep as he had thought and it could probably suffice with just a bandage. He took one from the first aid kit he’d grabbed when he saw the blood and stuck it to his chin, before finally leaning away. 

The two stared at each other for a few moments, Mingyu expecting an explanation and  Seokmin  not willing to give one.  

Finally, Mingyu sighed, eyebrows still furrowed in  concern.  “What happened, man?” 

Seokmin  shrugged noncommittally, not making eye contact. “I fell asleep?” 

He just rolled his eyes, putting the bandages and other misconceptions items back into the first-aid kit, and closing the lid with a click. “You were so tired that you cleaned your room and immediately passed out so hard you hit your head on the corner of your bed frame?” 

Seokmin  shrugged, making another unsure noise. “I missed my bed?” 

Mingyu just stood, leaving  Seokmin  propped up on the toilet and moved the two feet over to wash his hands of the smell of blood and hand sanitizer. “I know you, dude. And I know that you’d never get that tired. I also know,” He said, turning again to face  Seokmin  with an expression he couldn’t describe. “That something’s been up with you and you won’t tell me what it is.” Mingyu leaned against the counter, in the way of  Seokmin’s  escape through the door. He wasn’t getting out of here without explaining something; if there was anything he knew from college, he knew that Mingyu could be the most stubborn thing in existence. 

So, he rubbed his hands together, distantly registering the smell of clean linen and citrus from the other room. “It’s  kinda  hard to explain, but I’ve been... passing out a lot lately?” At the panic on Mingyu’s face, he regretted it explaining it that way. “But I’m fine! It’s temporary !” He still looked unsure and  Seokmin  rushed to reassure him. “Look, if it’s still happening at the end of the week, you have my permission to take me to the hospital.” Mingyu’s lip stuck out in some semblance of protest.

“As long as I get to drive you to work. You can’t be driving like this.” He stuck his hand out for a shake and  Seokmin  relented, agreeing somewhat, and took his hand. 

Mingyu nodded, firm and determined, before pulling and pulling  Seokmin  up back up onto his face. “Just...” He said, his voice considerably lower and more unsure. “Be careful. You really scared me.” Mingyu nodded once, then again, more to himself than to  Seokmin , before releasing him and leaving the cramped bathroom feeling far too empty. 

Seokmin  spent the rest of his time in the apartment before he could meet the elusive  Minghao , avoiding his roommate and staring forlornly out the window. It hurt, more than he could explain to Mingyu, to not tell his best-friend the whole truth. The tidiness of his room didn’t soothe the pain in the slightest, so he curled up in bed, hovering between taking a nap and pretending to take a nap. 

So  it was no surprise that as soon as the sun began to fall below the horizon,  Seokmin  was hurriedly putting on something better and leaving the apartment with a final glance at Mingyu’s door, which had remained closed since the bathroom incident. 

The streets were still warm from the day’s heat and a cat sunned itself in a patch of grass lazily. He jogged across the street, waving at the man he recognized from the restaurant before disappearing into the occult shop. It was only after stepping out of the heat did  Seokmin  realize how cold they kept the shop. Between the candles casting flickering shadows and the lack of amiable employees pruning the plants, the shop felt much more sinister. He resisted the urge to pick up the skull punch bowl he saw, instead heading directly for the counter. 

Now that he knew his way, it was easier to weave his way through the plants that, even though were trimmed, seemed to catch on any article of clothing. All of the strange amenities that came with this shop were slowly becoming familiar, even that jar of dragon scales on the shelf next to the counter. 

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was to see the (presumed) witch he’d met on his first night in, languidly stretched behind the counter, reading the same, heavy-looking book he had been the night before. This time, though,  Seokmin  didn’t hover nervously, he walked up to the counter nervously, and nearly stumbled backwards when the  man made  eye contact with him. He swallowed and spoke. 

“You’re Minghao?” 

Minghao, he was guessing, looked up from his book, eyes narrowing once more. “You’re the witch?” 

“I’m  Seokmin .” He extended a hopefully not clammy hand, which  Minghao  stared at for a second. 

“Extending a hand to a left-hand path witch? Bold choice.” For a moment, the man smiled and took his hand and shook it,  Seokmin  forgetting how to speak for a second with the sudden revelation that the man’s hands were extremely soft. 

But just as quickly as it had appeared, the smile was gone, replaced with an expression of mild interest, better than the extreme disinterest he’d faced yesterday. “ Jeonghan  said you were  gonna  help me?” 

Minghao  shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “I might. This meeting isn’t just for you, you know?” 

No, he did not know. But he made an “Oh,” and acted like he did know. The other rolled his eyes. 

“You don’t know anything about dark magic, do you?”

Seokmin  shrugged sheepishly and  Minghao  sighed and gestured to the other chair that sat behind the counter. He hesitated for a second before sitting down, perching on the edge of the seat.  Minghao  slid the book he’d been reading between them, flipping to the beginning the of the book. “Unlike other types of magic, you can’t just draw energy from other things or nature or animals or- whatever, you have to use energy from humans.” He pointed at a drawing of a person, a wispy sort of thing sitting where his heart would be. “That’s what makes it illegal, if you take too much too fast, the person ends up dying.” 

Seokmin  nodded but listened; despite the illegality, you never know when knowledge like this would be useful.  Minghao  continued, flipping the page to point at a diagram of a circle made of runes similar to the one  Jeonghan  had shown him. “It’s important to use your runes and boundary lines because if you don’t you could end up drawing from the wrong person. But,” he said, turning to cast his sharp gaze at  Seokmin . “This is a two-way street. You freak out on me and manage to steal my energy? Now I’m dead and you’re trapped in a weird limbo between reality and visions.” He nodded again, more enthusiastically this time;  Minghao’s  gaze was nothing short of intimidating and being in limbo didn’t sound very fun. “Good, you get it.” And  Seokmin  sort of  was . 

He pushed the book over to  Seokmin , already picking out another, albeit smaller book. “Read this by the end of the week and we can go through with the operation.”  Seokmin  stared, incredulous at the several hundred yellowing pages in front of  him.  “And don’t lose it. That’s mine.” Too scared to protest, he just nodded, and flipped to the first page. 

 

But not before he was even ten minutes into reading and a few pages into the study of human energy,  Minghao  had leapt over the counter with an ease  Seokmin  hadn’t seen, like, ever. He stretched and yawned, as if that was an easy feat before, plucking what  Seokmin  could only assume were his keys from beside the counter top. He spun them on his finger, his eyes gaining a wild quality that had  Seokmin  intrigued before he’d even spoke. 

“This place blows. You  wanna  take a ride with me?” 

Before  Seokmin  had even processed the words, he was nodding and standing up.  Minghao  beamed, the first he’d seen, and he threw a familiar arm over  Seokmin’s  shoulders. 

“I knew I’d like you.”


	5. magic in the woods

Minghao  left his arm slung over  Seokmin’s  shoulders as he guided him out the front door of the store and back into the brisk night air. He  lead  them around the side of the store, into the small alley there where, up close,  Seokmin  could see what had been hidden there the entire time. 

It was a  motorcycle , black with polished chrome pieces. It looked sleek; neither old nor modern, and looked out of place beside the garbage and dumpsters.

Seokmin  laughed, sharp and airy. “It’s not what was I was expecting, I’m  gonna  be honest with you.” 

Minghao  hummed inquisitively, moving his arm from the  taller’s  shoulder to pull his keys from his pocket. “What, did you think I rode  a  broomstick? A chariot of darkness?” 

Seokmin  rubbed at the back of his neck abashedly. “I don’t know, you’re not the easiest to read, you know?”

“Good.” Minghao pressed a helmet into his chest before turning to stick the keys in the ignition. The engine roared to life before quieting into a rumbling purr that shook Seokmin’s chest. With practiced ease, Minghao slung his leg over the seat, running a hand through his black hair before pulling his own helmet on. When Seokmin didn’t immediately follow, he popped the visor, eyebrows furrowed.    
“You coming or not?” 

Seokmin  paused, some part of him considering whether this was really a good idea or not. Getting on a near stranger’s bike and riding into the night?  That didn’t seem like the  soundest  financial decision.  But that part of him was no match for the heart currently beating a hundred miles an hour in his chest. Swallowing, he nodded, pulling the helmet on over his head and managing to mount the bike (with much less grace than Minghao, _granted_ ). Before he could ask where exactly he was supposed to put his hands,  Minghao’s  hands had grabbed his forearms, pulling them around his torso until  Seokmin  was clinging to his waist, his chest against the other’s back.  

Minghao  said something but his voice was swallowed by the engine’s noise. “What?”  Seokmin  strained, trying to be heard over the roar. He didn’t respond, instead seemed to roll his eyes and tapped the side of the helmet, just under the ear. Confused, but following his lead,  Seokmin  felt around the area, finding a button on the side of it. He pressed it and jumped, surprised by the sound of something crackling in his ear. 

“Can you hear me now?”  Minghao  asked and  Seokmin  nodded, tilting his head to the side in lieu of a question. “They’re  bluetooth . You can talk and I’ll hear you.” 

“Oh,”  Seokmin  said, very astutely. 

Minghao  nodded, seemingly satisfied and turned around to face the front of the bike. With a small jolt the bike moved forward, and  Seokmin  could feel the engine rumble to life under him. 

“What I was trying to say is that since we don’t have any  gear on —” The shorter continued as he drove the bike out of the alley and onto the open street.  He turned to face  Seokmin  for a second, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.  “ — you should probably hold on tight.” 

Seokmin  swallowed and nodded, pulling himself flush against the other’s back for fear of falling off of the bike. 

The motorcycle pulled out onto the street and within seconds, the pair had gained speed, wind whipping at his arms through his sweater. He’d never been on a motorcycle before, and the feeling of his stomach floating higher than it should made him lose his kilter. But the whistle of the wind and the blur of the street lamps were mesmerizing, his breath caught in his throat. 

“When I turn, I need you to lean with me, alright?” 

He nodded before realizing that he  couldn’t hear that. “Yeah, I got it.” Even with the  bluetooth , he had to raise his voice to be heard. Within moments, they were nearing the first turn already. 

“Lean right!”  Minghao’s  voice sounded happy, almost gleeful and  Seokmin  wished he could see his face. But, following his instruction, he leaned into the turn, squeezing his eyes shut as the bike tilted towards the pavement. 

But, instead of his face hitting the concrete, the bike leveled out as they completed the turn and accelerated smoothly forward.  Seokmin  heard  Minghao  laugh airily in his ear and  Seokmin  realized he’d been quietly screaming under his breath the entire turn. He shut his mouth, snickering at himself. 

“You don’t have to stop, man. Watch--”  Minghao  yelled into the night air, like he was riding a roller coaster. “Get it all out man- no one’s  gonna  stop you.” 

Seokmin  beamed and yelled doubly as loud, shrill and off key, the night air holding no judgement for their  shenanigans . 

Minghao  laughed, and he could barely stop himself from swooning more than he already had. “Look, no hands--” 

He threw his hands in the air, laughing still, even as  Seokmin  screamed in terror. The bike wobbled under them and he shut his eyes tight, unwilling to watch. It wasn’t until he felt the bike stop swerving did  Seokmin  open them, ever so slightly. “Relax man, I’d never let you get hurt.” Despite the endangerment he’d just put them both through, he  sounded sincere  Seokmin  pouted into the inside of his helmet. 

“Dumbass.” He’d muttered it softly, but apparently the other had heard, laughing again before leaning on the gas. He pressed the front of his helmet between  Minghao’s  shoulders, humming as a small smile tugged at his lips.

The two of them rode far, farther than  Seokmin  had been in a long time. They took the small two-lane interstate out of town, the city lights fading into the intermittent light posts that lined the road. Time seemed to still as they drove; there were no signs of anyone else save for the spare motorists that passed them on their way into the city. It was lethargic and peaceful, the two exchanging few words, but neither dwelled on the silences between them. It wasn’t until  Minghao  pulled off the interstate onto a side road did Seokmin speak again. 

“Where are we going anyways?” 

“My favorite place to practice  magic .” 

That wasn’t quite what he had expected, but  Seokmin  would be lying if he said he hadn’t been curious about the other’s magic. The bike pulled into a clearing, one surrounded by trees but not so far from the main road that they could get lost. They slowed to a stop and  Minghao  put the kickstand down with his foot, sliding off the bike with a practiced ease.  Seokmin  managed to flounder off of the bike, nearly toppling himself in the process but eventually gaining his bearings.

When the motorcycle’s headlight turned off as the engine died out, he realized just how dark it had gotten outside; he could only see  Minghao’s  silhouette in the dim moonlight. Though he couldn’t make out what the other was doing, he could see him moving, shuffling from foot to foot. 

“Hang on, I haven’t done this in a while--” With a sudden puff of air and a sharp crackle, a flame bloomed between  Minghao’s  cupped hands, lighting his face up a cold purple color.  

“Woah...”  Seokmin  was startled to say the least. He leaned forward to look at the fire closer. It wasn’t putting off any heat as far as he could tell, but it cast a haunting purple glow over the clearing.  Minghao  grinned, a wide and toothy grin that made  Seokmin  both want to smile back and cower in fear. Before he could choose though,  Minghao  had turned away and walking towards the center of the clearing, and  Seokmin  followed close behind. 

As they reached the center of the clearing,  Seokmin  could make out a makeshift firepit, cobbled together from mud and stone, the interior already lined with branches and kindling.  Minghao  knelt down and tilted his cupped hands and the flame dripped, like he was pouring it, into the firepit.  It  glowed purple among the leaves for a moment longer before the kindling lit on fire, orange flames blooming from the base of the pit. From the crackling sound, the mottled embers, and the growing scent of wood smoke, he recognized that this fire was real, the non-magical kind. 

The witch dropped his weight onto a log that  Seokmin  hadn’t seen until now. He lowered himself onto the severed log, feeling that the edges had been worn smooth and round. 

“I cut this humanely, in case you were wondering.” His gaze shifted back to the other, who had rolled up the sleeves of his jacket to warm his palms over the fire. “I made sure that there wasn’t a dryad attached to it before I cut it. You don't want to mess with a dryad, man. They don't enjoy their homes being chopped down.”

“How... how exactly do you know if there’s a dryad in a plant?” 

Minghao  shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “They make themselves known. But don’t worry. There aren’t usually dryads in plants in the plants you buy from Home Depot.” 

Seokmin  nodded, and he understood. Living in a Home Depot plant didn’t seem like a very safe life decision. 

“You know Joshua? He was probably at the store this morning? Looks like a cat and smells like a church?” 

“Yeah?” 

“He’s one.” He spoke nonchalantly, like he had revealed the man’s profession and not that he was a magical being.

Seokmin’s  eyes nearly fell out of his head. “He is? Is he connected to one of those plants up front?” 

Minghao  looked aghast. “God, no. You think we’d let some human just walk out with that? No, his plant is at Jeonghan’s house.” 

Though he was curious as to _why_ exactly Joshua’s plant was at  _ Jeonghan’s _  house, he didn’t want to pry and he let his hands settle folded in his lap. It was probably a good thing that he hadn’t asked because  Minghao’s  eyes were flickering with mischief. 

“You  wanna  summon a demon?” 

For the second time that night,  Seokmin’s  eyes widened. He floundered for a response. “Isn’t that like super illegal?” 

Minghao  shrugged, his lips still pulled in an impish grin. “If they find out, sure. Look man,” he said, setting a firm hand the other’s shoulder. “I got this. Don’t worry.” At this point in the night,  Seokmin  had already driven into the night with a complete stranger, he figured he didn’t have much more to lose. 

But rather than reaching for a candle or drawing a pentagram on the ground in salt,  Minghao  pulled out his phone, fingers flying over the glowing screen. There were a few pauses, a seemingly heated back and forth relationship occurring in the blink of an eye. But, finally, he tucked the phone back in his pocket, grinning like a self-satisfied cat.

“...Is there an app for demon summoning?”

Minghao  grinned even wider, one of his legs bouncing up and down rapidly. “No, I just — ”

There was  a  sudden flash of light and a wave of searing heat that filled the campsite. Even before  Seokmin  could open his eyes, he was hit by the smell of melting plastic and the sound of someone laughing. He peeled open his eyelids, once the blast seemed to have dissipated, to see a man standing in a small crater, arms spread wide and looking at  Minghao  with what could only be described as extreme annoyance. 

“— phoned a friend.”  Minghao  finished, standing to greet the new figure. 

Now to say that the new man was not what he expected a demon to look like was an understatement. He knew, of course, that many demons these days chose to live modern lives but he still hadn’t  shook  the stereotype of that little red dude that stood on people’s shoulders. This, however, was not a little man by any means. The man was lanky and tall, nearly as tall as Mingyu, if  Seokmin  had to guess. He was dressed in  a hoodie and sweatpants , hair rumpled and glasses perched on the end of a particularly angled nose. But by far, the most commanding part of him was the pointed glare he wore, even as  Minghao  leaned on him. 

“You’ve really have to stop doing this; I can’t always drop everything just so that you can pull your ‘summon-a-demon' party trick.” 

Minghao, seemingly unphased, poked the other on the nose. “You always show up though.”

The taller shrugged his arm off of him, lightly shoving him away. “Can I go now? I have midterms to study for.” 

Minghao  groaned dramatically, dropping himself back onto his stump. “Ugh, why did you have to get a doctorate; you’re never around anymore, nerd.”

He scoffed, but his glare softened into a fond eye-roll. “We can’t all live off of spellcasting, Minghao.” 

The other, seemingly unsatisfied, laid his head against  Seokmin’s  shoulder.  Seokmin  jolted, he’d been content just watching the two banter, he didn’t want to be dragged into the middle of it. Unfortunately, the demon fixed his eyes of him now, his gaze sweeping over him for what felt like an eternity. 

 

Eventually the demon sighed and turned away, pulling his glasses off to wipe them off on the hem of his shirt. “I’m  gonna  go. My biochemistry book isn’t going to study itself.” In return,  Minghao  offered a wave. The demon returned the glasses to his face and turned to  Seokmin  once more. “Take care of him.”  Seokmin  nodded,  still wide eyed and scared,  not knowing what he was com m itting himself to. 

Satisfied, he nodded, and with a small cloud of smoke, he disappeared, leaving only the crater and the smelled of charred sneakers behind. 

Seokmin  wasn’t sure that the man currently leaning on his shoulder had heard the man’s last declaration until he sighed, turning, and flopping until his head was in Seokmin’s lap. 

“Ignore  Wonwoo . He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I can take care of myself just fine. See?” He flexed a scrawny arm and  Seokmin  couldn’t help but laugh.  “Hey!”  Minghao  hit him on the arm indignantly, brows furrowed in a frown. “What was that laugh supposed to mean?” 

He hid his blooming smile behind a hand, masking his laugh with a cough. “Nothing. I’m sure you can handle yourself perfectly well.” 

Minghao  nodded, but his eyes didn’t unfurrow until he was sitting up straight, seated solely on his own side of the log. “You  wanna  try some magic?” 

Seokmin’s  eyes popped out for what seemed like the hundredth time. “But —  I haven’t manifested yet!”

“Are you sure?” 

The question threw him for a loop. “I... I guess not?” 

Minghao  raised a hand, gesturing at the empty space in the clearing in front of them. “Then find out.” 

Shakily,  Seokmin  stood, wiping the palms of his hands on his jeans. He moved around the crackling fire until he was standing a good distance away from the flames, unsure of what to do next. He glanced back at  Minghao , who was looking at him with expectance. He shrugged his shoulders, attempting to loosen the tightness that had settled in them. He raised his hands up to chest height and cupped his hands together, much how he’d experienced the spell casting in the visions. He closed his eyes and tried to replicate the feeling of the energy pouring and collecting in his palms, its bright light leaking out between his fingers. 

It wasn’t until he heard a soft “ _Holy shit_ ,” from  Minghao  did he open his eyes. 

It wasn’t quite what he’d envisioned; not even close really. It wasn’t a ball of magic capable of soothing tens of people at once. But it was something. In between his hands, hovering and flitting like insects were two small pinpricks of lights that glowed and sparked like sparklers. They were a bright, pure white that seemed to cast light onto the area around him. 

But it seemed they weren’t meant to last. They grew larger and more agitated, casting sparks over the underbrush. They darted away from  Seokmin’s  hands before he could think to stop the spell, and they went flying over the clearing, making the shadows wave and morph into contorted shapes. He didn’t realize that  Minghao  had moved until he heard his voice from his side. 

“Stop the spell!” He looked  panicked,  his normally chill façade broken for a moment. 

Seokmin  closed his eyes again and tried pulling the magic back in, clasping his hands closed, and praying to every deity available, but he could steal see the rogue lights darting around through his eyelids. He turned back to Minghao, his voice pleading. “I don’t know how!” 

There was a sudden  whoosh  past his face and he whipped around to see one of the lights had barreled head first into the tree line. With an audible crash, it hit an old oak tree. For a moment, it seemed like the tree was fine; the spell seemed to fade and flicker out upon impact. That is, until the tree began to groan; its old limbs creaking in an imagined wind. Leaves were shed at an alarming rate. Suddenly, a fissure ran up the trunk of the tree. Bright, white, cracks began to encompass the tree. The bark peeled away in chunks, revealing more and more of the same light. 

Only when the last of the tree disappeared to the light, did the light seem to fade. It flickered and collapsed inward until it was gone, its afterimage and a distinct smell of ashes the only thing left behind. 

Seokmin  was speechless and somewhat nauseous. He felt dizzy, like he was at risk of falling over at any minute. He turned away from the tree, he couldn’t look at its mangled remains —

— Only to see another bit of the  destardly  light heading straight for Minghao’s face. 

 

He felt like everything was going in slow motion. He felt like he could see the light flooding the other’s frame, his body bloating and peeling and cracking until it too gave way to the spell. 

 

But that’s not what happened. 

Faster than he could react,  Minghao’s  hand had shot up, catching the light in his palm. But rather than sink into his skin like it had with the tree, it seemed to freeze. Inky black tendrils spiraled around the ball, winding around it until it completely encircled it.  Minghao  seemed to take a deep breath before closing his fist around the thing. The light flickered once, then twice, then with a snap similar to that of glass breaking, the light went out. 

Seokmin  opened his mouth, to apologize, to thank him, to bargain, to blame, to do anything useful —  he wasn’t sure, but Minghao beat him to it. 

“What the _fuck_ was that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait!! i was kind of swamped with finals! I'll try to update more often with summer here!!!


	6. the biker twink

“What the fuck was that?”

  
Seokmin didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer; he didn’t know what that was.   
Minghao spread his arms out incredulously. His face was contorted in an anger that Seokmin hasn’t seen before. “Were you trying to kill me?”   
Seokmin’s eyes widened; he shook his head vehemently. “No, I would— “  
He pinched his brow, letting his arms fall, defeated, to his side. “Just. Don’t do that again. Not until this weekend.”  
Seokmin nodded, honestly ready to promise anything to make sure that no one ever almost got hurt again. He opened his mouth, to apologize as profusely as he could physically manage.  
But before he could, he felt that off kilter feeling wash over him again and he saw the dirt rushing to meet his face.

 _“Are you sure this is safe, your highness?” Mingyu’s voice was tentative, quiet, a sharp contrast to the persona he put on in front of his men. The sound of horse hooves crushing the underbrush and birds chirping was a welcome respite from the harsh sounds of war. Above them, the sky had begun to turn pink; they had been riding for a long time._  
“No.” Seokmin never minced words with Mingyu. There was no use. The other would know he was lying in a heartbeat. And Seokmin wasn’t lying. He didn’t know what was going to happen. They could get turned away at the door, they could be killed, they could never find the place and end up lost and starving in the woods. The townspeople’s rumors said that they should be close, that he lived just down stream from the falls.  
Mingyu didn’t respond. Seokmin laid a palm flat against the neck of his horse. She had carried him far and through worse situations then some unruly underbrush. But as they traveled further and further down the stream, the trees grew closer and closer, foliage growing denser and denser. Seokmin sighed, gently pulling his horse to a stop. There was no way around it; they’d have to take it by foot. He unstrapped his boots and slid off his horse, hearing Mingyu follow suit behind him. Carefully, he tied a quick release knot to a nearby bough, making sure it was secure but easy enough to remove should they encounter danger.   
Mingyu stepped forward until their shoulders were nearly touching. Seokmin looked over at him, and through the soft light filtering through the leaves, he could almost imagine them somewhere far away from here, unfamiliar with war. Mingyu’s face was all angles, but soft simultaneously. The warmth in his eyes more than made up for the dangerous slant of his jaw. Seokmin wanted to kiss him. But now wasn’t the time. He pulled his gaze away from Mingyu’s profile, instead facing the uncertain path before them.   
Before he could think even for a second, he felt a kiss being pressed to his cheek, a hand coming to rest on the opposite side of his face, drawing his gaze back to Mingyu. Seokmin felt a pang in his chest. “We’ll be fine, I promise.”   
Seokmin shook his head, gently pulling away from his grasp. “You cannot promise something like that.”   
“I have. And I intend on keeping it.”   
Seokmin didn’t respond. He couldn’t. If he did, he’d surely end up crying. Instead, he drew his sword, the sharp noise scattering some of the nearby birds. He stepped forward, and, with a deep breath, he pushed into the underbrush.   
The bushes weren’t thorned, which he was thankful for, but they were dense, and leaves and sticks seemed determined to get caught in every inch of his shirt. When the brambles drew too close together, he hacked at the boughs with his sword, taking out his frustrations on the plants. They fell away quickly and easily under his sword and Seokmin felt sweat settle onto his brow.   
The sun sank lower and lower in the sky, a deep orange bleeding between the branches so closely knitted above their heads. Seokmin pushed another branch away, even as his raw palms protested, and he found himself day dreaming again. A world in which Mingyu and he had lived far away from everywhere; where he was unknowing of expectations, and Mingyu wasn’t much too versed in blood. His hands gripped at the rough trunks of the trees as he stepped over some gnarled roots. He used to be able to climb trees. One hand over the other and Seokmin could be at the top of any tree. He hadn’t tried in a while.   
The orange began to run into red, and Seokmin felt like he was walking in circles. He wished he could have taken a boat but the creek ran so low and rocky this time of year that it was virtually impossible. The trees bent in closer to them, rough bark scraping at his shirt as he squeezed between them. The birds had quieted and the only sound was the whistle of the wind through the leaves and the sound of his heart in his ears.   
Suddenly, there was a hand on his arm, pulling him back. He turned to look at Mingyu, to question why he had stopped him but Mingyu held a finger up to his lips, releasing his arm to gesture at the sky behind his head. Seokmin turned, eyes straining to see through the canopy. Then, he saw it. Just above the tree line, a pillar of smoke drifted into the darkening sky. Now that he had noticed it, he could smell the faint scent of a fire in the air. Seokmin cursed quietly to himself, he should have noticed it sooner.   
He felt Mingyu take his hand in his, and Seokmin didn’t pull it away. He interlaced their fingers and started toward the smoke on the horizon, using the flat edge of his sword to push saplings out of the way.   
They continued like that, Seokmin only releasing Mingyu’s hand when the brush grew too thick, only to take it again as soon as he could. Soon though, as the light between the trees began to dim and the red of sunset began to sink into the purple of night, the trees grew more and more sparse; wildflowers and clusters of mushrooms taking up the space between the oaks. The forest grew more and more non-distinct as night fell, the plants running into dark silhouettes. Seokmin couldn’t see the smoke anymore; he only prayed they were still heading the right direction.   
First, he heard something. A quiet, melodic voice echoing through the trees, coming from presumably the same direction of the smoke they had seen. Seokmin took off, barely registering Mingyu’s quiet “be careful” before he was pressing forward through the trees. There were no words to the song, at least none that Seokmin could understand.   
Then, he saw the lanterns. They cast flickering light over the dark forest and moths clustered around it like a beacon. Seokmin broke into a run, releasing Mingyu’s hand, his heart hammering against his chest. He thought he heard Mingyu calling his name.  
He slid to a halt at the edge of a clearing.  
The singing stopped.

Seokmin could feel, no hear, the wind whipping past his face. It whistled in his ears as he stirred blearily, blinking away the remnants of the vision. He heard a voice, he thought it was Minghao’s but it sounded like he was underwater. He caught a glimpse of the street lights smearing past his visor before his head bobbed and his eyes fluttered and he fell asleep.

He awoke to the sound of yelling. Somewhere above him, someone was arguing and Seokmin wanted it to stop.   
“—me to trust you after you show up on my doorstep with him passed out in your arms, at three in the fucking morning?”  
“I already told you, this wasn’t my fault.”   
“I’m supposed to believe that?”   
Seokmin groaned, throwing an arm in the air in an attempt to quiet the noise. And it seemed to work; the voices fell silent and Seokmin distantly thought that maybe he could get back to bed. Suddenly though, there were hands cupping his face, hot and rough against his skin. His eyes fluttered open and he squinted against the brightness.   
“Seokmin? You’re okay, thank god.”   
His eyes focused on the silhouette in front of him, dimly making out a face close to his. It was—  
“Mingyu?”   
The other nodded, a small, worried smile pressed into his cheeks. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” He laughed but it fell flat, as if he were too distracted to even acknowledge his own joke. Instead, he moved his hands from Seokmin’s face, one falling away and the other brushing away the strands of hair that had fallen in Seokmin’s face. “I know you’re probably tired but can you stay awake for a little longer? Can tell me who– “ Mingyu gestured and Seokmin followed his hand to the other person he’d heard earlier. “– that is?” Seokmin squinted, the shadow was hovering over him, over the arm of his couch he thought, and their hair was shaggy and he was lanky as all hell. He waved a dismissive hand.   
“That? That’s just Minghao.”   
Mingyu’s gaze flitted to Minghao, who just shrugged, and stuffed his hands in his pocket. Part of Seokmin, the one with the brain cell, began to catch on. He blinked the bleariness out of his eyes and sat up, trying to assess the situation he had awoken to.   
He was laid across the couch, one of their two pillows propped under his head. The horizon, from what he could see out the window, was still dark. He reached over to the lamp on the coffee table and flicked it on, blinking as the room was cast in yellow light.   
Mingyu was standing in front of him, hands fidgeting with the need to do something and slouching a slouch that nearly made you almost forget how tall he was normally. And Minghao was beside him. This really wasn’t he wanted to introduce Minghao to his roommate or his apartment, but there was nothing he could do now.   
He looked to Minghao for an explanation. “What happened?” Minghao’s eyes darted to Mingyu, who was now also looked at him expectantly.   
“You… passed out. I just brought you back.   
Suddenly, Mingyu was drawing himself to his full height, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You said, you said you would be fine! I was expecting you to just be in bed more often, not for random strangers to be dropping you off on our doorstep.” Mingyu was frustrated, clearly, but his voice strained and cracked, as though he were struggling to hold back tears.  
Seokmin stood, letting the throw they’d draped over his lap fall to the floor. “Mingyu… it’s okay. I’m sorry for worrying you.” But Mingyu wasn’t looking at him anymore.   
He glared over his shoulder at Minghao, shining eyes narrowed at him. “You. Did you know he could have passed out at any time?”   
Minghao shifted his weight, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Of course I did.”   
“And you decided that an impromptu excursion to the forest was the best course of action from there?”   
Minghao scowled. “I knew I could get him back no problem.”   
“Oh, so showing up at 3 am is no problem then?”  
“He’s back, isn’t he?”   
Mingyu started forward, hands balled.  
“Hey!” Seokmin stepped between them, stopping Mingyu with a hand on his chest. He swallowed nervously; honestly he’d never had to get in the middle of a fight before. He was just praying it didn’t escalate.  
Mingyu tightened his jaw, but stepped back, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. Minghao’s eyes darted over the both of them, Seokmin’s hand still hanging in the air where Mingyu’s chest was. He seemed to recognize something, the frustration on his face shifting to an unreadable expression.  
“Whatever. I gotta go feed my cat.” Minghao grumbled, mostly to himself as he stepped around the couch to head to the door. As tempted as Seokmin was to ask about his cat, and believe me he was, this wasn’t the right time. Minghao left the small apartment quickly, door closing softly behind him.

Mingyu seemed to untense, heaving a heavy sigh as he rubbed at his eyes. It was only then that the time really hit him. It was late, really late. Mingyu’s eyes were lined in the beginnings of the dark circles that Jihoon hated to work with.   
“Mingyu...” Seokmin laid a gentle hand on the taller’s shoulder.  
Mingyu sniffled a little and his heart broke a little. His eyes were teary when he raised his gaze to Seokmin’s. “I shouldn’t have flipped out, I’m sorry. I just, first you get all weird and start passing out then you disappear all day and some, weirdly vague biker twink shows up at 3 am with you knocked out in his arms-! And I- !” Mingyu hiccupped and suddenly there were tears running down his face. “I got worried.” His sniffed again and wiped his face in the crook of his arm.   
Seokmin was at a loss. Of course, he had seen his fair share of Mingyu-breakdowns; they had gone through college together, for god’s sake. But never, never, had Seokmin been the cause of the tears.   
But he did what he always did when his friend needed him. He pulled Mingyu into an embrace, pulling the taller against him. Mingyu’s weight collapsed onto him, his hands raising to squeeze around his frame. Seokmin’s own lifted to the back of Mingyu’s head, where the other’s so often rested when he initiated the hug. He ran a hand through his hair, letting Mingyu get out whatever he needed to. They stood there for a few minutes, Mingyu collecting himself in Seokmin’s arms and Seokmin just trying to do what he could.   
After a while, though, Mingyu leaned away and Seokmin released him, brows furrowed in concern. Mingyu sniffled, rubbing at his nose. “’m sorry.” His voice was painfully quiet and Seokmin wanted nothing more than to reassure him that out of anyone, Mingyu was furthest from being in the wrong. Before he could though, the taller was continuing, picking at the hem of his shirt and eyes downcast. “We should get to bed.” Mingyu shuffled off, his sniffles following him.   
Seokmin just nodded. There wasn’t much he could say. After a couple beats of silence, he followed Mingyu down the hallway, slipping into his bedroom for the first time in what felt like ages. He shed his pants somewhere on the journey to his bed, forgoing pajamas for tonight. He collapsed onto his mattress with a heavy sigh. He’d been so caught up in the skirmish as soon he’d awoken, he hadn’t had the time to even dissect what his most recent vision was supposed to mean.   
But god, he didn’t even want to at this point.   
Instead, he took his spare pillow, the one he never really had a good place for, and held it close to him and shut his eyes. He’d be able to think more clearly in the morning. His body seemed to agree and in minutes, he was slipping in and out of consciousness. With a promise to himself that he’d visit Minghao tomorrow night, he was out like a light. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this comments are the only thing that keep me going jsdfhsdfsj


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